From Her Eyes, poison ivy fanfic
by MetallicJester
Summary: The deteriation of Dr Harleen Quinzel through the eyes of one of her patients - Poison Ivy
1. September 20th

_She had glossy leaves and bursting buds and she wanted to struggle with life but it seemed to elude her_.

I lay back against the solid floor, the only thing between me and the concrete floor a thin white mattress. The other cells contained actual beds propped up with pillows and a cover, but as I had to keep reminding myself - they didn't have my best interests in mind. The bare minimum was all that was required.

That was made clear by the low level defoliant that was heavy in the air only in my area. No life could grow in this pathetic, shrivelling cell, and even I felt I was curling up to die.

My attempt to play by the rules and reach a point halfway to death by remaining in my cell all hours of the day had bought me a single record player, which sang out the slow, somber notes of Clair de Lune. Anything was better than listening to the drivelling of other inmates in the vicinity. Of course they'd be a hell of a lot louder if I hadn't gotten my own allocated room behind several security doors. At least I could thank my gift for that.

Even with the music, I heard the creaking of electronic security doors open. I sat up and turned to face at a right angle to the door so I could look through the gaps in my fiery vermillion hair; appearing aloof yet still keeping a close eye on whoever thought themselves smart enough to come up here.

There was no clocks here, a clear move to enforce so kind of pressure on us: not knowing the time may lead to a loss of coordination of time at all, have you been here three weeks or three years? Nevertheless, I could sense the time just from the particles in the air, not exact but to the hour. And my sense was telling me that it was 10am and checks didn't usually happen until lunch.

Through the cracks I could make out the guard that was always stationed by my door - Maggie or Annie or something like that. There were always female, as as far as the Warden was concerned, I had only seduced men into giving me what I what. Little did she know that no one was safe, as long as I was out of this damned cell. 'Door Guard' was talking to a more petite woman in a white doctor's coat, and blonde hair pulled back so tight even I could feel the stain on her scalp. I hadn't tied back my hair in years, heh, now there's something I don't miss.

'Petite Doctor' flashed 'Door Guard' a smile, and gestured further with her hands, which I noticed she did a lot of. I curled up my slender knees to my face; the muscle tone almost non existent due to months of not much movement. From what I'd heard they let the other inmates out to the exercise yard, but I assumed they just didn't want to risk it with me. I'm sure that's a violation of my human rights. Not that the word of a terrorist would hold up in court, and I didn't have a family to stand with me.

Both the door guard and the doctor approached my circular glass cell. There was no air holes in the glass to prevent any plant spores sneaking in to my cell, so there was an intercom to speak into so I could hear outsiders more clearly.

"Isley, you have a visitor; you know the protocol - stand up and put your hands on the glass where I can see them." the guard instructed, and I grumbled.

Hesitantly I rose to my feet which ached from the coldness of the concrete beneath them. I found my way over to the glass by the intercom which had clear circles where I was required to put my hands. I did as such but didn't removed the red hair that was still spilling over my face.

The song changed to Gymnopédie Number 1.

The first security door to my cell opened, allowing the doctor to enter. It closed behind her and she stood in the the decontamination tank, where she was sprayed down with a gas defoliant to stop her accidentally bringing in plant spores. I noticed her grimace and it made me grin which was thankfully hidden by my hair.

The second security door opened, finally allowing me to see the doctor to the full. She was very reserved, a blonde woman in her late twenties dressed in a black pant suit, a white coat hiding most of her frame. She adjusted the black glasses further up her nose so she could better see me.

"You can remove you hands from there, Miss Isley. Please make yourself comfortable." she told me, softly, pulling out the padded chair and sitting down. She placed a notepad on her knee, and let her eyes fall on me.

I sat up straighter and took down my hands from the wall. Using one to push my hair back I returned to my dull mattress, stretching out my long legs so the orange material of my asylum two piece didn't scratch against my skin. It was terribly uncomfortable and I was just lucky enough that it was too big for me so the contact with my skin was minimal.

With the hair out of the way I could lift my head and raise my yellow xanthophyll eyes to meet her blue ones. "My name is not Miss Isley," I responded calmly, tipping up my straight nose.

She chewed her lip, and pressed the button on a tape recorder. "Sorry about that Miss- what would you prefer I call you?" she asked.

I hmphed, leaning backward and resting on my hands. They weren't cuffed so they obviously expected me not to do anything. "Ivy, Poison Ivy's too much for a sustained conversation."

She thought about it for a second. "Here at Arkham we're not told to use a patients own given name, as it could encourage their habits, I hope you understand." she responded, and I scoffed - I couldn't even be called my chosen name. Of course this had been a rule for a while, but I'd gotten used to my past doctor using Ivy anyway.

Speaking of Mooney, where was she?

"What happened to the other doctor then?" I asked, raising a red eyebrow.

The doctor what she must have thought was a concerned face; mine remained neutral no matter what I heard. "Dr Mooney has retired, and so I will be your new doctor, that is if you don't object." she responded with a professional smile.

Hah, retired. Mooney has probably begged to be transferred to a different establishment after the last session where I talked about nothing but sleeping with her husband. Of course I couldn't do that as I was stuck in this stupid cage, but I knew enough about him to make her nervous.

"I'm Dr Quinzel," the doctor added after my silence. "I don't do this with patients but if it makes you more comfortable you can call me Harleen."

My mouth opened slightly in confusion, but my features remained calm. I didn't want her taking my responses and running. "Why would you do that with me?"

She tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "I'd like for us to be friends, or at least as close as one can get in this setting."

My lip twitched. "That's kind of... weird." It was very weird, I couldn't tell if she was creating an atmosphere of cold hard professionalism, or warm friendship, and neither really mixed.

"So what can I call you? You didn't answer before."

Yes, Captain Obvious I was aware that I didn't. "My friends at college used to call me Red." I regretted it as soon as it came out of my mouth, as I realised I'd given her something of substance to chew on.

"Red sounds nice." she commented, not even drawing attention to the friends at college part. Interesting, maybe she would be more tolerable than the others.

She smiled once again and got up, dusting down her trousers. "Well this has been nice but I just came here to introduce myself, not for a full session don't worry. I thought we could start sessions every Tuesday and Thursday at 11am?"

I managed to pull the corner of my mouth up slightly, though my tone still sounded sarcastic. "Sounds fine."

She nodded her head, allowing her some time to process my words. "Well miss- Red, it was pleasant to meet you. I'll see you on Thursday!"

Dr Quinzel gave a signal to the guard outside and the security door opened and closed. Once again the doctor was sprayed with a defoliant, before the other security door opened and closed behind her. I didn't take the time to watch her as much as she may have liked that, so I lay back on my mattress.

The introduction didn't have much of an affect on me, and so I stretched out my arms and played with my long hair. Doctors came and went in the year I'd been incarcerated, and I was sure this _Doctor Harleen Quinzel_ wasn't going to be the last of them.

The song changed to Nocturne op 9 number 2.


	2. September 23rd

Thursday

11:00 am 

"Isley, you know the protocol."

I heard the door guard speak, and I sighed, raising from my sitting position. Lately I'd noticed how slender and lanky my arms had become; now I paid attention to the greyish colour I was slowly turning. I needed sun, the human part of me needed Vitamin D, and the plant part of me needed UV rays for photosynthesis. It was cruel and I swore I would make them pay. Hmph, I'd been incarcerated once and I hadn't broken out at all. I'd attempted once, but I'd been too weak without my plants that I was knocked out clean by a security guard. That was when they'd upped the security, provided for by WayneTech.

I placed my hands on the two set areas on the wall, and closed my eyes as the visitor stepped through the security doors. It was Dr Quinzel I could already tell, her tulip perfume flowed at least a few feet before her. God I missed tulips, I used to tend to a patch of them in Robinson Park before I was incarcerated. They'd most likely died by now.

"Red, you can make yourself comfortable." Quinzel told me, and I scoffed.

Gee thanks for the honour, I felt like remarking albeit I kept it to myself. I removed my hands from the glass and sat kneeling on my mattress.

The doctor sat on the designated chair and pulled out her notepad once again, with that cheap black recording device. My past doctor also carried the same design of device and so I was used to the routine. The device was used to record the session so it could be assessed by the doctor later, but also served as a potential piece of evidence so the doctor and the patient could feel safer. Of course Batman had access to the logs as well.

She pressed start. "Dr Quinzel. Session 001 with Patient 1640, otherwise known by Pamela Isley. September 23rd, 11:03am." Quinzel began.

The pen clicked by her hand. "So, Red, how would you like to begin? Is there any topics you've been thinking about recently?" she added, looking up at me.

I stared at the inky nib touching the paper of the notepad. "How about the fact you decided to bring dead organisms to see a partly plant patient?" I replied, coldly.

She followed my stare back to the paper, and her hands gripped slightly tighter. "Ah! How thoughtless of me, I assure you I didn't bring it on purpose to offend you-" she began, worriedly.

My back grew straighter. "Offend?! How would you feel if someone was waving about a slice of human, the texture of meat, flesh and bone still clear on the creamy pulp? You'd be disgusted." I cut in, my brow tightening though not too much as I didn't want the asylum to feel they had to sedate me. I had a high tolerance to almost everything chemical and so when I'd tried to escape they'd given me a dangerously high dose of some kind of benzodiazepine. It had apparently knocked me out for at least ten hours, and it took days before I stopped puking it up. Serves to say I'd learnt my lesson.

Dr Quinzel chewed her lip and looked rather pathetic. "If it helps, it's recyclable, no more trees had to be cut down to make this... I'll definitely not make this mistake after today." she apologised, closing the notepad and clicking the pen before replacing them both in her white doctor's coat. "What did Dr Mooney do in terms of taking notes? I assume you didn't let her jot them down on paper as I just tried?"

I smirked. "No, I didn't approve of her writing on paper so she would bring a tablet to write on instead. Of course we never really discussed matters that she would need to take notes of, we ended up restoring to general banter."

Quinzel's mouth fixed into a thin line. "Yes, I listened to the tapes - you toyed with her over her husband and children."

My eyes rolled. "It was all smoke and mirrors, I can't actually do anything whilst I'm in this cell. Do people really think I have guys or goons on the outside doing my work? No! I'm not like your Riddlers and Jokers - it's just me. I'm more of an ecoterrorist than a 'super criminal' as the city puts it."

She paused. "You organise all of the crimes and riots you've incited?"

My face relaxed and I lay back so I was looking more at the ceiling, so she may feel like she was losing me. "Yes. The plants give their opinions of course, but at the end of the day all of the planning is put forward by me."

"Ah but could one not say that that plants are like the mindless goons I've heard you criticise? They are obedient to you, and yet you can hear them speak?"

I hmphed. So now she had used the topic to poke her way into the plant part of me, something I now fully understood but I predicted she wouldn't. It didn't hurt to tell her, however, I would rather babble on all day about my biology than stay silent and have doctors physically dissect me.

"No. Those plants are simply an extension of me, like a bionic arm would be to an amputee, like an extension of my neural interface. So when they give opinions or give their thoughts, they are my thoughts from some part of my brain - conscious or unconscious. Goons are useless and we would not be on the same wavelength, the plants always are. And so I love them and want to protect them as a mother loves the foetus growing inside of her, as it knows it is too weak to survive on its own."

The doctor looked like she really needed to write this down, and I grinned to myself. She shook it off. "Like a mother and her children huh? Err... why then, Red, have you allowed your plants to be killed to allow you a getaway in the past? I don't know any mother that would leave their child for their own gain, it's usually the other way around."

I grimaced. She was referring to an incident before I was incarcerated where I'd created a wall of thorns and vines to trap Batman when he'd been close to catching me. He'd cut them down with one of those Batarangs, though by that time I'd escaped to a safe place. I felt every stab of that metal through those vines as I'd hurried away, no matter how far I'd gotten, my brain was linked that deep.

"I never feel positive when one of my plants die, that's the first thing. Secondly, the mother and child analogy falls apart in this scenario as a mother doesn't feel all the pain the child does; the mother isn't protecting the child because they're afraid to feel the child's pain as theirs, but because of a bonding instinct present in the majority of mammals. I am the plants, the plants are me, I feel everything they feel, they feel everything I feel. We are extensions of each other.

"Tell me this, doctor: if you were faced with a high stakes situation and you needed to escape, yet you found yourself handcuffed, what would you do? Would you let yourself be enveloped by the outside force, or would you bite off your thumb?"

She paused to think, naturally looking down at her own thumbs. "If it came to it, I'd bite off my thumb... what does this have to with it?"

The corner of my mouth lifted at my expected answer. "The human brain will not let the host bite its own thumb off, or at least ninety nine percent of the time. However if you face a situation where it is the rational decision, you can bring yourself to bite it clean off, easy, albeit you will be in a lot of pain, and could scar yourself mentally as well as physically. I am very difficultly parted with my family of plants, but if the time calls for it I can remove myself from them like a thumb. It pains me to do it but also to remember it."

Dr Quinzel's mouth fell agape and she had to catch herself and shut it. "I- wow that's- I hope you don't find it insulting but I think I'm beginning to understand."

I raised an eyebrow and brought my head back down to finally look at her. "Why would I be offended?" My words were surprised, and not many things surprised me anymore.

"You have a very impressive set of credentials before your accident, I was afraid you might perceive me as dumb."

Now that was interesting. Of course I knew my past deserved some applause: I'd graduated high school early and accumulated both a PhD in Phytochemistry and Molecular Biology.

"I've encountered stupider." I commented in reply, pushing my hair back. Usually my hair would respond and wriggle in its own way but nowadays - in this godforsaken asylum - it lay dead and lifeless. Oak sap would do it good.

Quinzel gave a smile and this and I regretted not telling her she was the dumbest human I'd ever met. She wasn't, but you never could say good stuff about these white coats, even if I used to be one.

She cleared her throat. "So, you mentioned before that it's only you and the plants, who are basically you, that do the planning and committing of crimes." she reinstated.

I raised an eyebrow. "Yes, why are you having memory trouble, Doctor? I know a branch of the Salvia genus that could fix that, if you'd be inclined." I retorted sarcastically.

Her face twitched but she continued on. "Do you ever get lonely, Red?"

My lip fell loose but I snapped it back up, hoping she hadn't noticed my reaction. Oh but she had.

"You might be a large majority plant, however you're still part human, and humans are social creatures. These months in Arkham along with you living on your own for what I assume has been a while, must have lead to you feeling very lonely. And being lonely would have a detrimental effect on your rehabilitation."

I exhaled loudly and sat up straighter. "I would like to finish the session here."

Her eyes opened slightly. "You uh-?"

I dipped my head so I was looking through my hair. "I am finished giving responses, it is my knowledge that a patient can stop a session anytime they want."

She moved forwards. "It's usually only when the patient is feeling threatened. Red, why are you threatened by me asking you whether you're lonely?"

Because I am, a part of my mind yelled and so I bit my lip hard in response. "I would like to be left in peace. Now please leave."

Dr Quinzel's face fell to neutral, and she stood up slowly. "Have a good day, Red. I'll see you next Tuesday hopefully."

I gave her a nod, though I didn't look up at her as she left.


	3. November 5th

Tuesday

1:13pm

I poked my plastic fork around my plate, moving around the food I'd been given. The asylum knew I had a diet of paleo without plants, however they just threw the standard dinners at me sans vegetables. Today it was a cube of artificially strawberry jelly, with a supposedly turkey sandwich that tasted more like what I expected a kid's store to taste like. All rubber and zero nutrition for my precious insides.

My food related firing of neurones was interrupted by the doors to my cell opening, and heavy breathing. I looked up to see Dr Quinzel stood in the doorway dressed in a blue collared shirt and a dark navy a line skirt. Her legs were covered in black pantyhose and ended in small black heels.

"Wasn't the session starting at 1?" I remarked, looking back down at my food.

She had her hair tied back but there were strands falling out. Noticing this she took the hair tie out and redid the hairstyle quickly. "Yes, I'm sorry for the lateness but one of my other patients had a sort of tantrum and I was called to help." she apologised.

I looked up at her. "Another patient, hmm? Another maximum security loony?" I inquired.

She chewed her lip as she paused. "I'm not really inclined to tell you about my other patients, patient doctor confidentiality and all..." she started.

I rolled my eyes, but as I finished she continued.

"...but no, they're a lower level patient."

My mouth opened just a little before forming into a smile. Arkham was made up of four levels: Level 1 where the most basic of crazies were held, ones that were more a danger to themselves than to others, put in there by family members or even by themselves; then there were Level 2 and 3, where mentally unstable criminals were kept, rapists or murderers or those with very drastic psychosis that resulted in violent outbursts, locked up by the courts or police. Now then there was Level 4 which unlike its name was actually located under Level 1 in the basement. Here was only the worst afflicted mentally unstable mass murderers or terrorists, locked away by the police and their precious little Batman. All natural light was absent from Level 4, and a special keycard was required to enter the corridor which was always guarded by guards. The guards were armed with guns down here, in the higher levels they only held batons and tasers.

Quinzel saying that her patient was a lower level was a joke, they looked like children's party clowns next to me and the other Level 4 patients I had heard of.

"So a lower level bozo was more important than me? Interesting." I poked, smirking.

I noticed her wriggle in discomfort as I looked up. She had sat in the chair provided in my cell. "I did tell the nurses that I had a session with a Level 4 patient, but I don't think they really believed me. That sounds silly I know." she sighed, resting her head on her hand.

I cocked an eyebrow, now this was interesting. "Why wouldn't they believe you? I thought nurses were lower in the Arkham hierarchy than doctors." I replied, without any sarcasm in my tone.

She paused for a second. "I also shouldn't be telling you this, but I'm not really that respected as a doctor. Not that I've done anything wrong, but I made the mistake of going on a date with one of the guards, and so he spread an abundance of rumours about how I was easy." she explained, embarrassment very clear.

My lip feel a little loose and I sat back to look at her. To my astonishment I felt sorry for her, not that I'd tell her but I'd had problems with men underestimating me even before Jason Woodrue laid eyes on me.

"What an ass." I commented, giving her a rather soft smile. I don't know what had come over me, maybe I was starting to realise this doctor, unlike the others before her, was a human and treated me like I wasn't a green skinned freak. "I've always thought men should end up as fertiliser, then they'll be really useful."

She dipped her head to look at her knees. "Maybe you're going somewhere with that." I caught the quick smile to herself before she corrected herself.

"Aren't you going to start that tape recorder?" I asked, curious. Today really was a strange day for Quinzel.

She blushed and took it out of her pocket like she had forgotten, of course she wouldn't have told me that. "The recordings are mostly for me, and I suppose we haven't discussed anything of substantial importance. I'll start them now if you're obliging." I stopped myself from grinning, the reason she hadn't started recording yet was because she kept bringing up things she wasn't meant to say, and she knew recordings could be used against her. Of course I had heard but who would believe my word over hers?

I nodded and she pressed the button.

"Dr Quinzel. Session 004 with Patient 1640, aka Pamela Isley. November 5th, 1:20pm." she reiterated as always.

Laying backwards I looked up at her, resting back on my elbows to avoid a crick in my neck.

"Now, Red, how do you feel today? You look tired."

My lips formed a thin line - of course I was tired looking! I'd been shut off from the real world for too long and I wouldn't be surprised if I died in here. It was getting worse by the weeks, and none of the staff would listen to me. Albeit maybe Dr Quinzel would.

"Have you ever put a plant in a space with no light? It withers and dies." My eyes shut as part of the convincing, acting as if they were too heavy to hold open. It couldn't hurt to put a bit of dramatic alongside my actual pain, could it? "It feels like I'm dying, Doctor."

Her brow folded. "I think you've got a point there, it's been made clear that you are made up of at least a decent part plant physiology, so keeping you in this environment must be horrible."

I chewed my lip. "Yeah, not that I can do anything about it. Most of this is just in place so I can't break out."

She sighed. "There should be a way to stop you from breaking out without killing you. I really don't want to see you ill like this, it won't be good for your therapy either."

I fell silent and looked at the floor. "You don't have to pretend to care about my wellbeing, Doctor, I've met loads of doctors and all of them were in it for the money."

Her brow creased harder, and she sat forward. "I'm not pretending, Red. I'll talk to the higher ups and try and get something better organised for you." She took off her glasses and rubbed the stress from the bridge of her nose. "Oh and call me Harleen."

"Thanks... Harleen." I pushed my hair behind my green ear and proceeded to push food around the polystyrene plate again. "Speaking of killing me, want any of this crap?" I lifted up the plate as if to offer it to her.

She scrunched up her small nose. "No thanks, it looks just as bad as the dinners the staff get. As to why I bring in my own lunch."

I scoffed. "Wish I was that lucky." I finally pricked the cube of jelly with my fork and threw it in my mouth. "But being a prisoner, a girl's got to eat whatever she gets."

The taste was odd, sort of inconsistent and not like the strawberry I'd smelled from it. Decent, but still not as bad as the lime jelly I'd had for one of my first meals here, which tasted like pure herbicide and so I'd forced myself to throw it up in the toilet the cell held in the corner. Door Guard had yelled at me for that.

At least I could give Arkham credit for switching the meals up even the tiniest bit, I think if I'd had to eat lime jelly and an American cheese sandwich one more time I might have died a good while ago. Hmm, I was still here clinging on, desperate for a whisper of escape. What if it never came? What would become of me?

"Now, Red, you're a patient here, not a prisoner. This isn't a prison."

I raised my red eyebrows. "That so? Why am I confined to a cell all hours of the day and unable to leave until my hours are deemed up? That sounds worse than a prisoner to me."

She paused once again. "That does sound unpleasant, though you being a patient here is for your own wellbeing as much as others, that's why Arkham aims to help those here with medicine and therapy, whilst places like Blackgate just locked you up and throw away the key; trust me I did a year's internship there. I'd like to help you feel more comfortable and aid your condition, because you're too ill for Warden Glenn to keep you like this, so here's a thought: other than escape, what would make your stay here more enjoyable? Do you want to be let into the exercise yard or the library? I would offer you the garden but of course that can't be allowed with you being a Level 4 patient and plant related. The Recreation room is full of other patients for you to make friends with if you want, taking in mind as you are Level 4 you won't be mingling with the lower level patients."

The exercise yard? I found no need for exercise, my strength came from the sun and good nutrition and so I could probably lift the dumbbells twice as heavy as the Arkham meatheads as soon as I got some good old fashioned sun and water.

The library was a possible option as I was one that enjoyed to expand my knowledge of the world, I always had been from a young age. That was how I had branched out into my enjoyment of classical music, or my love for mythology. It was this that had helped me discover Xōchiquetzal, the goddess of female sexuality and beauty who was often associated with plants and flowers. Xōchi' was the one I talked to in my cell when I was alone, when I had no plants to talk to. When I was a younger Pamela studying in high school I'd thought religion to be trivial, but perhaps religion was only pointless when one isn't locked up in an insane asylum on the brink of death, with no one that cares about you apart from the asylum who gets a grant from the council for your presence in their institution. I was very thankful for this knowledge albeit the library was full of paper, and I was sure it would make me unwell seeing a huge room of it.

Now the Rec room? I'd never chosen to go in there even when I'd had the choice when I was first incarcerated, as I had no wish to make friends even now. However the isolation was starting to take a toll on me as little as I wanted to admit it and so maybe it wouldn't hurt to be around people.

I smiled from one corner of my mouth. "I'd like to see the rec room for once. I've been thinking about what you said and though I wouldn't say I'm lonely, it could be beneficial to see who I'm locked up here with."

So I can work out any teamwork to get me the hell out of here, I would have said if I'd continued to talk, but I kept it to myself. I doubted that others in maximum security really teamed up to help each other, a lot of them sounded like they had a serious lack of empathy.

She beamed, nodding her head and readjusting her glasses. "We'll you'll just have to wait and see what the Easter Bunny gets you," she joked, pressing the button on her recorder. "I'm sorry that my lateness has cut this session short but I'll try and make it up in other ways. I do hope you found today somewhat useful."

"Good to see you, Harleen." I lay down and gave her a softer smile than I'd really given to any human in years. I hated to say it but maybe I was growing soppy.

I watched her collect her things and walk out, and for once I didn't want to gouge out my eyes at the thought of another session with a doctor.


	4. November 11th

Monday

9:29 am

I lay on my back staring at the concrete ceiling of the cell, counting the little dips and dimples in the uneven application of the wet material. It was something I partook in most mornings when nothing of significance really happened.

A morning in Arkham usually consisted of an orderly waking one up at eight to take the days medicine, so one couldn't even sleep in. Then one would be handed a clean uniform whilst uniform from the day before was stripped off and taken to be washed. There was two uniforms per patient - the one being worn and the one that was currently being washed. No underwear was permitted to be worn as some of the patients had used them to choke out others, and the ones that had issues with body fluids were forced to wear diapers anyway. It didn't bother me as I wasn't a stranger to nudity or very close to so, but I could see it being invasive to other patients, male or female.

Then breakfast was brought at around nine, consisting of a polystyrene plate of coagulated eggs and cold toast. I knew though it took at least five minutes to walk to my cell from the kitchen, it was cold when it left their double white doors.

I could probably survive just as well without this crappy breakfast down me and so I pushed the plate to one side. My ears were sensitive from hours of silence, as the Warden has decided to take my record player away due to me leaving food as she took it as a form of peaceful protest. Due to this I caught the creaking of footsteps before the security door opened.

"Isley, get up." a female voice sounded, different to the door guard's Jersey accent. This one had a clear spoken Metropolitan accent; I wondered why someone from a place as classy as Metropolis would want to get a job as lousy as security guard in a town as lousy as Gotham.

I grunted, albeit I got up from my position and stood straight, automatically putting my hands on the circles on the wall. There I waited until the Metropolitan guard passed through the two doors and entered my cell, where I noticed her quick grimace at the smell of the cell. I was always here so I didn't smell it anymore but when I was fresh faced I couldn't bear the smell of the extra powerful defoliant, as well as it's effects: it stunk like damp.

She stood behind me and pulled my arms behind me before handcuffing them. I was almost never handcuffed because I was never let out of my cell, not even for injections or doctors appointments, however today was different. I was dragged by my shoulder out of the cell and my body visibly shivered at the feeling of an actual breeze on my skin.

"You gonna be alright with her?" the door guard asked the guard holding me, before the latter let out a chuckle.

"She's weak without her other plants, plus I work out over a dozen hours a week. I could handle her no problem." the latter answered, pulling me to the security doors that lead out of my separate room.

Only one guard? Hmph. They sorely underestimated me, and realistically I could seduce this female guard and make a run for it, however I didn't trust myself to get far enough on my own. Plus if they caught me this time the security around me would double again, and it was already bad enough. Still, I had them thinking I could be safely transported with one female guard, that was good.

"Where are we going?" I asked the woman as we entered the Level 4 corridor, to the commotion of several of the inmates in the cells. Some of these people hadn't seen a woman in a long while, never mind if I was ill and withered looking.

The guard's name badge read Sam. "To join the rest of your sort." she replied bluntly. "Doctor's orders."

I rolled my eyes until I heard her continue; Doctor? Could she be referring to Dr Quinzel? I decided not to retort with anything and simply held my silence as we kept walking. We turned a corner and without leaving the Level 4 we came to a rather plain door with an old plate sign that read 'Recreation Room'.

Ah, it looks like the doctor did had some influence here after all. Next time I saw her I'd be sure to show how thankful I was. And part of me wasn't joking about that.

A guard that was stationed outside gave a friendly nod to my holder, before turning around and unlocking the several locks on the door. It seemed cruel to be locking patients in a room meant for getting a load off and relaxing, albeit this was a rec room aimed only at Level 4 patients. I wondered whether the rec room for Level 2 and 3 would be locked and I was unsure, however I knew for sure the Level 1 room would be unlocked as they were the least problematic.

The door opened and Sam the guard continued walking me by my arm, forcing me into the room.

The area was white walled and white tiled, just like the rest of this dull place. It was fairly spacious, comparable to the space of a bar, as I'd worked in a fair share of them during university. There were large windows with hanging black curtains however the light was significantly blocked by metal mesh that would stop anyone from leaving if the windows were broken. In the middle was a pool table, which I was very suspicious of being there due to the gross amount of harm it could bring if someone decided to use the pool balls or the cue as a weapon. On the other hand I supposed the harm would only come to the patients due to no guards actually being stationed in the room, so the asylum probably saw it as a problem sorting itself out.

"Guards will come to clear everyone out just before meals," Sam informed me, as she unlocked my handcuffs and freed my arms from behind me. She pushed me further into the room and I couldn't help but stumble with my legs being almost too weak to support me on their own. "Don't be starting any trouble."

With that the guard left and I heard the door lock once again. My head tilted up with a fixed brow to observe my competition as I struggled to my feet. As my entrance had been a sudden occurrence most heads had turned to look at me and to this I scowled.

"The fuck are you looking at?" I snapped, giving everyone a once over. A lot of freaks here, me included. They all looked away after my remark either because they were afraid of my harsh tone, or because they had seen all they needed to see. I hmphed and used the wall to leverage myself over to one of the pews left carelessly in this room. It was nailed to the ground and barely creaked as I put my full weight onto it.

This particular seat was located close to a window, and so best I could in the situation of the wire mesh, I gazed out of it. Arkham was located on Arkham Island, with a secure bridge connecting the land with the rest of West Gotham. From my seat I could see bright blue skies quite ill fitting for Arkham, hanging over a stretch of land surrounded by tall iron gates to stop any patients escaping or throwing themselves into the icy waters below. Vaguely in the distance I could make out the skyline of Gotham City with the many skyscrapers stretching up into the clouds. I spotted at least two blimps circling the skies, made minuscule by the grand size of the city. For once it wasn't grey or raining, but instead it was bright and clear, which was unfortunate as I wouldn't even get a hit of that bright sun. On the plus side the mesh holes were wide enough that photons could pass through the window and onto my skin, and I felt the effects immediately. It wasn't enough to heal me completely but it was enough that I noticed the greying of my skin began to reverse, and a light green undertone was more clear.

I let out a sigh and let my eyes droop, not even opening them when I heard footsteps coming closer.

"Sit too long and you'll get a sunburn." I heard a male voice say, an air of mocking in his tone. I knew who it was before I even looked up, but doing so I met his sneering eyes with my hardened glare.

I'd never met the Joker in my life, nor did I really wish to, but I'd known he was in Level 4 with me. When I'd thought about associating with other maximum security patients I'd thought about the more predictable ones such as the Riddler or Two Face, I could get men like those in my grasp and settle myself some 'muscle'. The Joker on the other hand was very mentally screwed and everyone knew it; that was clearly the reason why he had to come bother me - he saw everyone else avoiding him.

"I think your pasty ass has to worry about that more," I muttered, before crossing my legs away from him.

From the corner of my eye I saw him sit beside me and my face screwed up but I hid it from him. Reactions are probably what he wanted to see.

"It's Pamela right? I'll call you Pammy." he started, curling his lip.

I kissed my teeth and looked over at him. "It's Ivy." I retorted, meeting his acid green eyes with my equally as unnatural yellow ones.

He completely ignored my last correction. "So Pam, you've been locked up for almost a year now..." he started, but my face creased. Had it really been that long? I knew I couldn't keep track of the days here but I thought it had been less, at this point I couldn't even remember the day I was incarcerated. "So how come you've never been seen around here?"

I lay back. "Warden gave an order for me not to be allowed out of my cell, to prevent the chance I'll break out and kill her." I explained.

The man scoffed. "Warden Glenn, how she does have her little games. So how come you're in here if it's so dangerous for you to leave your precious cell?" he asked.

I raised my shoulders, shrugging my coppery hair off of them. "Guess my doctor put in a good word for me." I replied bluntly. That was true, it was the only reason I'd be in here, however I was giving him minimal information. I didn't know or trust this clown more than I could throw him - which wasn't very far in my state - and I sure didn't want to be talking with him longer than I needed.

"Oooooh," he sang, leaning toward me and I brought my eyes to stare away from him at one of the other patients that was playing pool. "Lucky girl."

I rolled my eyes and stood up, feeling my legs actually support me for the first time in far too long. "Nice to have this little chat, but I'm in the mood for pool." I announced to him, turning my back with no issue to show him I wasn't afraid of lowering my defences to him, before walking off.


	5. November 12th

Tuesday

1:00pm

"Good afternoon, Red!" the chipper voice of Dr Quinzel sounded as she entered my cell. It was unexpected to hear her this upbeat as though she was definitely happier than I was generally, she'd always talked to me at least somewhat professionally. Today she'd addressed me as if I was no different to a high school pal.

"Err nice to see you Harleen." I replied awkwardly, giving a slight smile. Sure one may feel that one shouldn't have to respond politely or nicely toward someone that was part of an institution that you were forced to be locked up in, which is how I'd felt since I'd got here, however Harleen hadn't been offensive to me so far, at most she was naïve about helping me. I could as least help my stay here be a little more bearable, albeit don't be convinced - I wasn't serious about being rehabilitated. One didn't get given a gift such as becoming entwined with the plant neural network, and be able to ignore the suffering of said plants even if it was criminal.

She pressed the record button on her tape recorder and went through the usual motions, before placing it in an apt place so it could hear both of us.

"Thanks for getting me into the rec room yesterday," I thanked, giving her a slight smile. "I didn't think one would be able to get me out of this damn cell."

Harleen blushed lightly. "Well it took some hard work but I finally convinced the Warden. You'll be allowed to go in the rec room every Monday, as long as you don't act up. Capiche?" she explained, smiling.

I scoffed, leaning back to look at her. "Sure, you got it captain." I replied, rather sarcastically for myself.

After this she opened her black satchel and passed me an item covered in cling wrap. I raised an eyebrow but didn't object as she placed it within my reach, and so took it in my hands and unwrapped the cling wrap layers. Inside was a plastic tin, which I opened to find a meal: a cooked chicken breast with egg, and a side of apple and peanut butter.

My mouth opened into an o seeing the real food after months of garbage fake meat and bread, and I couldn't help but let my eyes flick up to her then back down to the food.

I heard the smile in her voice. "I saw the crap, pardon my language, that you were eating the other day that the asylum gave you and so I felt after working so well with me that you deserved something for your stomach," she explained, watching me as I used the plastic fork she had provided to pick up the food and ram it down my throat. Unladylike but I was desperate for it.

She continued. "I looked around in you file and I read that you had demanded organic food when you first arrived here, which clearly didn't work out. It also mentioned you didn't eat plants which I found rather humourous but I brought you an apple as I wasn't sure what your thoughts on plant produce was."

I finished up the meat and egg and took a second to look at her, wiping my face also. "Why would it be funny that I don't eat plants?"

She shrugged. "I just assumed as there are carnivorous plants and animals eat plants, that it would work out with you being an omnivore."

I paused. In my past life I had been vegan, something that I'd felt very strongly to change once I actually became one of those plants that were being eaten. "It's kind of complicated, but I only eat plants that have been humanely killed by myself. I find it cruel if anyone else has slaughtered them, because none of they do it humanely, and they are bred in plantations."

"Plantations? What's wrong with-"

"When you think about plants as people, living organisms that fear and feel pain, plantations can be perceived as such as slavery. Many plants gathered in one location before being mistreated and packed up and sold to the highest bidder."

She looked at her feet. "Don't you think that's quite extreme? Like slavery was a really horrible issue that still-"

I raised an eyebrow. "I don't think it's extreme. As an African American may feel about slavery, I feel about plantations, and unlike slavery plantations are still common."

Harleen noted this down in her pad. "It's very interesting to hear you talk about your experiences, I don't think I've heard sides of the story such as yours. I feel as if more people would benefit from knowing your side of the story than just knowing your crimes."

I sighed, tilting my head to the side. "Are you suggest that you should write a book?"

She shook her head urgently. "No, no, of course not, I'm just saying that you're trying to get your message out within your crimes, but your crimes are turning people away and stopping them from really listening. If a civilian wants to start a conversation about this then their argument is ultimately flawed because people will know it came from a criminal, and therefore it can be criticised for this." She leaned forward, looking in my eyes. "I feel you could do more good portraying your message in a different format."

I scrunched up my face. "In what format, protesting? I took part in hundreds of protests when I was in college and none of them brought about any change! The higher ups are stuck in their ways. Sometimes the threat of violence can really change someone's mind, not that you'd understand."

There was a glimmer in her eyes. "Oh I think I definitely understand. I'm just thinking that if you think the higher ups or politicians are stuck in their ways, why not aim at becoming one? Then you actually have a voice in changes happening without having to threaten them. That gives you a place to share your voice in a place these people will actually listen."

I laughed for a split second at the idea before my smile fell. It sounded like she was the lunatic locked up here, albeit I could hear sense in it. I hated that the Gotham Board was full of old men, so why didn't I just try to fix that instead of killing them off, as the latter just caused more old men to be elected into the board. The only issue is that I doubted they'd listen to someone with a reputation such as mine.

"I'm a criminal sweetheart, what do you think they'll think of that?"

Harleen put her pen to her pad and thought. "Our last mayor Mayor Jones was an ex con, I think there's supposed to be a law that states that offenders can't be elected for positions of power, but Gotham City is just... different. Just don't try to run for president as I don't think that'll work out." She laughed lightly at her last comment, surely thinking about me or anyone from Gotham being president. A funny thought indeed.

"Mayor Jones was convicted for minor drug smuggling, I've killed over twenty people, darling. I hardly see us as the same."

"Ah but the law does. See a small time drug smuggler and a mass murderer are both seen as bad by good doing citizens, as they are both classed as criminals. If a shoplifter could do it, you could always use it as a loophole to allow you, a murderer, to do it. The law is pretty lousy in these aspects."

My mouth flicked open into a half smile. "Huh, you're smarter than you look Harl," I used the nickname without thought, but didn't retract it quick enough before I saw her face glimmer with hope. "Once I get out of here, maybe I'll try for mayor."

"I'd vote for you." She laughed and gave me a smile. I wasn't sure if she was joking or even if I was joking, but I smiled back.

She continued. "You know, I've noticed when you talk about your past with me you tend to only talk about your college years. Do you know why? If the change of subject isn't too intrusive of course."

My smile faltered however I reassured myself that she was a head shrink, she was bound to talk about my childhood or past sometime. Still, it touched on aspects of me that even I wasn't sure of.

"It's the time I remember the most I suppose." It was a weak answer but it was the best I could come up with as she stared at me with those wide blue eyes.

She nodded. "That would be true, I don't mind you only talking about your years at college and not of your childhood of course. Unlike the stereotype of us psychologists being fixated on childhood, of course mostly due to Freud's work, some cases are just completely unparalleled to their childhood. For example Ted Bundy, who has a perfectly normal childhood. I think your case is also one of these examples where no matter what may have happened, you still most likely would have reached this point. Not to be deterministic or anything."

I chewed my lip, thinking of what to say. Not that I'd tell her, due to my fear that she was go back on her word and write a book about me, but my childhood was almost normal to say the least. My mother died in childbirth, and so I lived with my father, who was a certainly weak willed man. Whilst his life and therefore mine were controlled by whichever domineering woman was in his life currently, I still managed to study hard and graduate early into college. If Harleen heard the comment about my father always seeking women to stand over him and take care of everything for him, she might suggest that my perceiving of women over men from a young age may have influenced my behaviour as Poison Ivy later in life. There was some truth to it I suppose: my father had no spine, and so I usually assumed that other men at their core were just like my father - weak and needed women to control them. My view of women was not so clear due to not actually having a mother, but I had only ever had female friends in my life. Of course there was my first male friend Jason Woodrue, but I knew how that one had turned out.

"I liked my college years." I stated after much silence.

She didn't write anything down, interestingly enough. "I've mentioned that I read the record of your studies, but it doesn't tell me everything. What would you say was your happiest moment there?"

I lay back, resting the back of my head against the glass of my cell. "Two of my friends and I got drunk and broke into that abandoned toy factory in the New Gotham district, you know the one that was supposed to be demolished ten or so years ago? Well there was still some toys there, so we re-enacted a completely accurate scene of the Vietnam war, as one of my friends had a bachelors in History."

She let out a laugh, less controlled than the little stifled ones several sessions ago. Her eyes were wide like a child being told a story. "That sounds so fun, I hope you didn't get caught."

I gave a less enthusiastic smile in return, albeit I was still happy to remember my memories even if I felt like I was remembering someone else's. "Well like twenty minutes in we heard some commotion, probably the one security guard they assigned to those kind of useless places, and so we took off running, still fairly drunk so we rolled down Jersey Hill which the factory is on. I think Anna sprained her ankle but still couldn't stop giggling."

"Anna?"

I looked away. "I think one of their names was Anna, the accident with the chemicals screwed up my memory of before it. It wouldn't matter now - they both want nothing to do with me."

"Are you sure? That might just be your internal fears telling you that I-"

"I had two very close friends, one came to visit me and tell me that God could help remove me from my sinful ways, and one went to the press to sell them a story about how I was always a plant crazed lunatic, just now I was green skinned and half naked."

Harleen stopped at this. "Hmph, I guess that's something we have in common."

My face stiffened. "Pray tell?"

She put away her pad. "I had some friends in college, but all of them shit-talk me now. Something about me spending too much time working to go out partying, and how I won't agree with them that the people I work at in Arkham are fucked up crazies."

I was taken aback by her sudden harsh language but I smiled to myself. "You care about your patients more than your friends." It was more of a statement than a question.

Her face flushed red and she hastily tried to undo my sentence. "I don't- maybe you took it wrong- I do care about my friends..." It was a mess of starting and stopping until she put her head in her head. "Yeah, you're right. I do."

My smile widened. "I think that's admirable of you." There was little to no sarcasm in this response.

She raised her face to look at me. "Really?" Her voice was higher and less of the standard American accent she had been using since I met her. This voice was more of a mix of Brooklyn or Jersey twang, which I really wasn't expecting from someone like Harleen.

I gave her a softer smile. "Absolutely."


	6. November 28th

Thursday

11:00am

It had been a week since I'd seen Harleen, and I couldn't deny that I'd missed her when she didn't turn up for our usual session on Tuesday. I'd gotten used to her bringing me a homemade meal on the Tuesdays so I could have it instead of the inedible asylum provided meals, much to the dislike of the guards. When they'd come to bring me my clean jumpsuit the next morning, I'd received a bunch of comments that they'd eat the homemade meals themselves if they felt like it, or insinuating that my tricks to seduce Dr Quinzel were working.

I'd rolled my eyes at that - I wasn't trying to seduce her, if anything she would be the one coming on to me if there was any flirting going on. I just rolled with the punches, anyway, my pheromones didn't work very well in this cell practically full of pesticide. If only I could get out of here I'd show those guards what I was made of.

My thoughts were cut short by the commotion of the doors, and the entrance of my doctor Harleen.

"Here she is, lady of the week he-" I started, before my eyes fully landed on her.

Her lips were set in a line, and there was now settling but very dark bruise noticeable on her neck, which she had tried to hide with her high collared shirt.

"Baby," I started, my eyes widened. "What happened to you?"

It seemed as if she had pursed her lips in order to stop her from crying as as soon as I began to speak softly, the tears began to fall. She tried her best to hide her red eyes behind her hand, but I ushered her over to where I was sitting.

"I'm sorry I missed our last session." she sniffled, wiping her wet face to no luck and sitting down next to me.

As the door guard seemed to be not in this world at the moment, I took Harleen's feminine hands in mine and looked her in the eyes. "Don't worry about it at all, I'm just worried about that fucked mark on your neck. Now come on and tell your friend Ivy what happened." I murmured, giving a comforting soft smile; I hadn't seen this side of me in years.

She took a deep breath. "One of my other patients did it, he used me to escape. Choked me until I almost blacked out and used me as a meat shield so the guards just had to let him go. It happened early Tuesday so I was excused for the rest of that day and yesterday." she explained, her eyes focusing downward on my green long nailed hands which were holding hers.

I assumed she also noticed as they tensed up at her words. "Who was it?" I asked, my words without tone.

She shook her head. "It doesn't matter, it's fine." she replied dismissively.

I leaned in further. "Harley. Who did this to you. Tell me, please." I repeated, my words this time were harsher and more demanding. I felt as she shook in my hands.

"I- M-Mr J, the Joker I mean." she stammered, looking everywhere but my eyes.

"They gave you that clown as a patient? Oh those sick bastards..."

"No! No! I asked for him as a patient, this is my fault!" Her face was burning up with shame and I felt like a mother warning her child. A strange feeling.

I was unsure of what to say but I was curling up with rage, my hands were most likely shaking as much as her now. Nevertheless I stroked my thumb over her knuckles and listened to her angered breathing as almost silence fell between us.

She started first. "You know what the worst part is?"

I looked up at her reddened features. "What?"

She dared to settle her eyes on me at last. "I'm more upset that they'll take me off his case, than I am about what he did."

The words I could possibly have expected didn't fall out of her mouth, and so I grew silent. My thoughts fell to Jason Woodrue, and how I'd felt as those chemicals boiled my blood and tore at my skin from the inside. But also how I'd felt as I watched him take one look at me dying, and had dropped everything and ran. The pain I'd felt as paramedics somehow found me, and brought me to Gotham General as my heart stopped and left me dead, before bringing me back again, and killing me once more. When one dies in considerable pain, something about their person... their mind or soul, is fractured, and cannot be brought back when they're resurrected.

In this way I'd related to Pet Sematary.

The pain I'd felt waking up in a hospital bed green skinned and half dead, watching as the nurses and doctors looked at me as if I was a freak. With neither my friends or Jason around to comfort me. I'd barely remembered my name, the only semblance was a name tag on my wrist reading Pamela L. Isley.

Once I recovered I had to watch as the city I once loved and felt content in kicked me to the curb, and laughed at my freakish appearance. Things I used to adore such as a boxed quinoa salad from a cafe close to my university now tasted like blood and I couldn't stand eating it anymore. All around me I heard the screaming, crying, pleading of plants as they were destroyed or maimed. Throughout the day and night as I'd returned to my apartment to the screams of the people in my building complex.

The pain of dying and being rejected by everyone I'd ever associated with. I'd felt it very strongly. And yet after all of this I still wanted my dear Jason Woodrue to walk through that door and stroke my hair back, telling me everything was going to be okay. So I knew how she felt.

"It's okay to feel that way." I soothed, referring to both Harley and my past self. "It will get better with time."

She nodded and took one of her hands from my grasp so she could wipe her face. "I hope you don't mind if I cut this session shorter today, I really don't think I'm in the best position to be telling someone else that they can fix their life if even I can't get it right."

I smiled at her. "Take all the time you need, I've still got five life sentences left so I won't be going anywhere."

She chuckled and I released her hands, allowing her to gather her belongings.

-

Monday

9:00am

I'd heard the bastard be chucked back in this hellhole by Batman on Friday, which had made my blood curdle. His laughing and whistling was all anyone could here late at night when they were trying to sleep, and I'd wanted to get up and kill his ass right there and then, but I bided my time.

From what I'd heard from the other patients gossiping, the clown never took too long to get back into the rec room, library or gym after being re-incarcerated due to him having some friends in the guards and orderlies. The first time I'd been allowed in the rec room he'd also been there, and so I was counting on him being there again.

Once again I was escorted by a guard to the rec room, which was just as busy as last time. I sat by the window, pretending to tan the side of my face, but actually using it as an opportunity to scope out the room: Two Face was playing pool again this time with another male patient, the Riddler was reading a newspaper in the corner, and my prize target was sitting in a chair in the opposite corner, staring directly at me.

He was mocking me, I was very sure, and so I turned to look out the window again. If I rushed him now from across the room as soon as I got in he would have enough understand of what was going on to hide some type of weapon and use it on me. I only had my hands and my superhuman strength, which this sun was currently helping me fix. Over the past few visits to this room I had picked at one of the holes in the corner of the mesh, creating a larger and larger space for sunlight to get through. I basked in this, shuttling my eyes before I heard his grating voice once again.

"So it seems we have the same doctor now." he stated, a smile so clearly on his lips that I doubted if I would be able to know it was him if he wasn't grinning whilst he talked. He had a fresh black eye most likely given by the Arkham guards or orderlies when he'd been returned by Batman. The affect of Batman was that his arm was now in a sling, and his lip was cut.

My toes curled but I kept my cool. "Oh Harley? Yeah it looks like we do." I responded cooly.

He leaned against the wall by the window, looking out through the mesh with me. I loathed his nearness, but especially now that he'd hurt someone I had grown to like quite closely. It felt so much different to if he had slashed up some of my family of plants, but close also.

He sighed, as I think he was expecting that I would be ready to kick his teeth in the moment I saw his face. This was why I was waiting - to get him into the most unprepared moment.

"Y'know, Harley as you call her, I like that," he murmured, grinning darkly. "She's just so sweet and naïve, so different to how you'd imagine she'd be when you first see her in her no funny business façade in session one."

I scoffed. "She was always nice with me from the start. You're just a sick man." I replied, sighing lightly and barely responding, to his dislike.

He chuckled leaning into my ear as I tried my best to turn away. "Sick huh? Well you should have seen her - my hands wrapped around her throat and capable of killing her, and all the while she was begging me to f-"

The man couldn't finish the sentence before I'd rammed my head back right into his skull, knocking him backwards. As he staggered I had the time to spin around and dive on him, sending the both of us to the floor. I sent fist after fist to his face, adding a broken nose to his set of injuries as I felt it snap under my force. All the while he was laughing, cheering for more and I couldn't help but keep delivering pain to him. The bludgeoning was only halted when I was grabbed from behind by orderlies, and injected with a knockout drug.

My eyes drifted shut, but not before a smile could grow on my face.

That one's for Harley, clown.


	7. epilogue

around 3 am

I woke up with very sore muscles, in a place I immediately didn't recognise as my cell. The place was dark, with one single barred window near the top of this tall room letting in some moonlight, enough for me to make out my hand and feet. They weren't chained, albeit they were still heavy and I could barely move them from the cold padded floor.

The presence of a new room with a metal door instead of my glass cell told me that I wasn't being moved somewhere else, I was in solitary. Punishment for my fighting I was sure, and the thought made me grin. It had been worth it to beat his light out even if he had been taunting me; the laughing as I did it however made me question myself. What if he'd left a mark on Harley and sent her crying to me so I would beat him up? Was I just a part in his sick masochistic plan? If so then gross, but I still felt better having attacked him.

My head was still fuzzy from the knockout drug they'd used. It was different from benzodiazepine which they'd used on me before, this one made my nose run and my skin grow numb. Or maybe that was just the serious lack of heat in this room.

I lay back down on the floor due to no bed being giving to me in this room, but that wasn't much different to my arrangements in my usual cell. Curling up into a fetal position I closed my eyes and hoped I could at least fall back asleep, continuing the however long I had already been unconscious since my attack. I was hoping it had occurred today but the soreness of my muscles from being kept in the same position for too long was telling me it was something closer to two days.

Maybe now it was December, the month of joy. Hmph, it always reminded me that I hated Christmas, dead trees plastered in every household and in every movie and store this side of the year.

I heard yells from the hallway outside my door and started forwards. These cries were quickly followed with gunshots, causing my brow to crease - what the hell was going on out there? How had someone managed to sneak guns into Arkham? As little as I'd remembered after my incarceration here, I'd remembered someone remarking the security here was more secure than even neighbouring institutes such as Blackgate Penitentiary. There were breakouts nearly every week at Blackgate but that was beside the point.

The yells fell silent before being replaced by signature laughter and my lip fully curled. The Joker causing mayhem of course. As much as I wanted to punch him again from what I'd just heard he was carrying a firearm, and I couldn't deny that he could shoot me pointblank between the eyes upon seeming me. With this I fell silent, hoping that though this cell was quite set out from the rest on Level 4, that he wouldn't realise I was in it.

My heart jumped unfamiliarly as there was a beeping as a keycard was held against the pressure pad on the outside of the door. There was a click and the door was unlocked. With the threat of grievous bodily harm committed by a sick clown grew stronger, I backed into a corner and formed a stance that would along me to spring into action as soon as that clown tried to come near me. I stood ready, watching as the door was thrown open and along with my mouth as I saw it was in fact little Dr Quinzel standing there.

"Harley?" I asked, lowering my stance and creasing my brow in confusion. "What are you-"

My answer was partly given in the form of the much taller Joker, slinking his arm around the doctor's waist to her delight. "Chop chop Pam, we haven't got all day." he mocked, grinning as Harley ate every bit of it up.

At my still confused face, Harley offered a hand. "I'm springin' ya." she explained, grinning. "Well we're both helping, but it was my idea and his execution."

The Joker's face stiffened. "Yeah and it'll be dear Pammy's execution if she doesn't stop gawking like a freshly caught fish." he warned, causing me to quickly take Harley's hand, albeit I passed it off as my own decision.

As soon as I was in her clutch she pelted down the corridors behind her Joker, who seemed to be moving particularly well for his predicament. Harley held a gun in her free arm, whilst the clown also held a pistol but in his non broken arm. The drug still in my system was slowing me down, but it was quickly counterbalanced with adrenaline as we turned to a corner with two guards holding weapon, only for the Joker to shoot them dead.

The three of us rushed into the elevator to get up from Level 4 to Level 1, which also required a scan of Harley's keycard. This surprisingly worked to my relief, as I didn't feel like hauling ass up several flights of stairs in my current condition, fearing that the mix of sedative and adrenaline would make me puke.

The elevator ride was an odd one, with me sending a dark glare at the Joker, who played with Harley's hair and grinned mockingly back at me. As if she had somehow forgotten about it, Harley pulled out a small potted plant from her bag and passed it to me.

"I didn't know if this would enough for all your plantsy things, but I brought you this." she explained, grinning at me. Her red lipstick was smudged and there was remnants on the Joker's lips. Gross.

"Thank you." I replied, smiling sweetly at Harley then glaring back at the clown. I took the plant from her - a common Epipremnum aureus - and allowed the stem of a branch to curl of it's own volition around my finger. I heard it cry out to me, worship me in its native language, and I smiled to myself. In my own chemical communication, I told it that I would protect it.

There was a ding as the elevator stopped at Level 1, and the doors flew open to expose us to a line up of five guards all with their weapons trained on us.

"Patients Ivy and Joker, please put your weapons down, I-" one started before stuttering. Even they were surprised to see Dr Quinzel stood between us, her male patient pausing with a hand on her head. I used this error to my advantage.

Producing my own special blend of gibberellins in my skin the plant grew to 6 or so feet tall very quickly, losing the need for roots in soil as it wrapped the bottom of the stem around my arm. It grew much larger and moved as I willed it, whipping the guns from the hands of the guards. Joker took this opportunity to pick up his gun and shoot down some of the guards, whilst Harley tried for the others, missing their heads but getting a good shot in their chests.

"C for effort, kiddo." the clown congratulated, patting her on the head and she squeaked in happiness.

I used my plant extended arm to crush the necks of the remaining guys. "So... how did this happen?" I asked, gesturing a finger between the two of them.

She gazed up at him, albeit he answered. "It's my irresistible charm and allure, Pammy. Maybe it levels up to yours, ha!" he laughed, as we rounded the corner.

I shook my head to myself and groaned, but soon sprang back into action when I caught the eyes of more guards and orderlies, the latter of which ducked into rooms and hid due to their lack of weapons. One of them alerted other guards to our appearance in the Level 1 Corridor E over a walkie talkie. This was cut short by Joker shooting him clean between his eyes. The others were taken done fairly quickly until Joker's bullets ran out, and so he grabbed Harley's gun leaving her defenceless. I scowled at this but soon noticed one of the patients in Level 1 had a large potted plant. My grin grew as the plant talked to me, and with a flick of my palm and the presence of spores that I was breathing out in the air, the plant grew large and stronger, pushing against the cell wall to the cell's patient's horror. The wall burst open and the plant rushed to me, finding a place on me to stay safe, and moving as I did.

Harley stared in fascination at this, but we couldn't stop for long before we heard more guards from back where we came, so we had to keep moving to somewhere with more cover. Guards in front of us were quickly taken out by Joker's gun or my very strong plants, and I really didn't feel like he was necessary for my escape, Harley had been the major contributor. But it looked as if for some peculiar reason they were a pair now, so I just had to put up with him for now.

We moved through passage after passage of winding corridors until we finally reached the double iron doors of the entrance. The asylum was on lockdown and so these doors were locked, but with the sunlight that peaked through the windows above the door, I breathed it in and used the vines to force open the doors with relative ease, which probably also would have been attainable with explosives.

The doors opened us up to Arkham Island and though the ride wasn't over yet, that pure unfiltered sunlight hit my skin for the first time in a year and I actually felt close to crying. I didn't as it could jeopardise my vision which I would need for the guards and police I now saw stood in front of us. There was a barricade made up of cars stopping us from continuing down the path off the island, but I smiled. No precisely shaped black vehicles or men in rodent shaped suits, no Batman.

Arkham Island may have been ugly from afar, but one thing it prized most of all, was it's botanical garden. So many variations of colours and flowers all taken care of by low level patients, at least from what I'd heard - I'd clearly never been allowed over there.

With a motion of my finger and a series of communications from chemicals leaking from my pores, I pulled all of the plants back underground, and over to my position. It took a lot out of me but it was the rush of the UV rays causing me to sprout a large plant up from the ground, encapsulating Harley and I, whilst leaving Joker on the ground.

"Mr J!" Harley called out as the two of us lifted up higher, a shield of thin lignified cellulose keeping us protected.

The clown was unbothered, laughing as he reload his pistol and shot down as many men and women as he could.

"He'll be fine, Harl." I assured her, as a large vine cleared the cars out of the way and knocked several men over the iron gates and down into the merciless waters below.

Once I was sure the coast was clear the plant lowered us both back down into a clearing of bushes, where Harley informed me she'd parked the getaway car. I only lowered her down next to the Joker, and watched them both get in the car with Harley driving due to the clown's busted arm.

"Don't wait for me, I've got my own ride!" I called, as Harley looked at me to wonder why I wasn't getting in the car.

She nodded and gave me a big grin. "I'll keep in touch!" she yelled in return, before Joker hit her in the arm and she sped off down toward the open iron gates, and the final exit into Gotham City.

I smiled to myself, patting the interior of the plant as it slinked back to the earth, pulling it and I underground, before re-emerging in Robinson Park. Freedom felt good, the fresh breeze on my face and the brightening of my chlorophyll in my skin was almost as good, but something peaked just over that: I'd finally made a dependable friend. A doctor gone off her trolley from the looks of things, and wrapped up with that mad clown in a way I didn't even want to think of, but a good friend who had felt me feel more comfortable in a place I couldn't escape from. Maybe it was fitting that the doctor actually helping and sympathising with patients turned out to be destined to be a patient all along, but hmph I expected more.

Nevertheless, it was my kind of happy ending.


End file.
